The Dying Embers
by DreamersEclipse
Summary: Roen Hawke was certain that he was cursed. Everyone that he loves dies. Every fortunate thing to happen to him seems to be overshadowed by the misfortune that follows. Anders is the only thing he has to live for but is he enough? (Anders and Hawke's conversation after Leandra's death w/personal twist)


The Dying Embers

Summary: Roen Hawke was certain that he was cursed. "Don't you see what this is? She was dead the moment he took her…" Everyone that he loves dies. "I had to kill my own brother!" Every fortunate thing to happen to him seems to be overshadowed by the misfortune that follows. "This house is nothing but an empty shell." (Anders and Hawke's conversation after Leandra's death with a personal twist.)

Warning: Angst, kissing, death, maleXmale relationship, mushy love confessions

A/N: I wrote this a while ago and just want to put it up in case someone stumbles upon it and actually enjoys reading it. Somehow my works always become angsty. After rereading this I have come to the realization that I am a cheesy romantic. Enjoy. Feedback welcome.

*Start Story*

Roen Hawke is not allowed to be happy. That's what he believed. There is no other way to explain the grief that follows him. All the tragedy that attached to him, cursed him, since his father's fateful demise nine years before. The guilt and torment that came with losing Bethany. Every bad dream, crippling emotion, self-detest that haunted him when he put his brother out of his misery.

His soul must be marked in darkness because when he thinks that he is finally walking towards a light only death awaits him. As if he walks in the footsteps of tragedy.

Roen's curse was what led him to be sitting on his bed, reflecting on or rather wallowing in his grief. It was already dark out, Leandra's funeral service had ended earlier in the evening. It had to be closed casket service so that no one could see the horrors that afflicted her. Roen knew it wasn't just his mother that he was burying either. So many others suffered because of some mad man's delusion. And he wanted so badly to tell the nobles of Higtown to shove off. Lock the doors of the Chantry so that no one but his close friends would be there to actually grieve with him and offer comfort instead of offering empty condolences and flowers that would wilt to ugly ornaments, dead and brown and rotten. But the church doors were always open and so it would seem, Leandra Amell received the noble funeral that was promised to her at birth.

It was a small comfort that Anders was there at his side the entire time. If he hadn't been a grounding presence, Roen feared he would have shattered, screamed, thrashed, cried, even hurt others either with words or fists. Nothing would have ended well if he were allowed to vent all his emotions during the middle of a funeral filled with gossiping strangers who lived to entertain misfortunes that were not their own.

Roen stood up. The darkness in the room was a shroud that enveloped him in morbid thought. The light emanating from the burning hearth was a mockery. Flames licked the logs greedily, consuming all that it would and gurgling black ash and hot embers as a production of destruction. The heat radiating from it felt stifling but the shadows of his room were an all-consuming chill that threatened to drown him.

He rested his arm against the mantle of the fireplace, the other used to apply pressure to his eyes. There were no tears but the feeling of a tight burning in his forehead remained. Just like the constriction in his throat didn't seem to go away. That feeling was mostly what kept him silent even when he knew Anders was standing in the doorway. He was a rogue after all, his senses were always sharp even when, no, especially when he was overwhelmed by emotion.

"I am so sorry." Anders walked into the room but Hawke didn't turn. "I know it doesn't mean anything but…I am sorry." It was the conviction and empathy in his tone that spoke volumes. That's what made it all the harder to cast them off as empty words. How much easier it would be to get mad if Anders were unreasonable (although the man seemed plenty infuriating in his own rights).

He was approached but not touched yet. His lover only hovered next to him. Roen didn't say anything in return. Words only rung hallow at the moment. Instead a crackling fire ignored their tormented silence and danced happily without a care.

Finally, Anders placed his hand over Roen's on the mantle, coating it comfortingly. "It's hard now but once the pain fades you'll have all the memories you shared with your mother before. That's all that matters." The apostate was gently rubbing his wrist with his thumb and Roen absorbed the contact like a chapped desert does rain. He craved the contact but at the same time he hated himself for it. There was also a bitter desire to laugh in Anders face and say, _'you say those words in the belief that the pain will fade! You're wrong. It never fades…'_

His hand twitched in hesitation before he pulled away, eyes going to the ground where in the flickering color of the dark carpet all he could see were the faces of his loved ones horribly marred by the state of their deaths.

"Is it really all that matter?" His question rung with a bitter dead note. The rogue shook his head and turned from the laughing fire from the sympathetic eyes of his lover. A shallow laugh, short and broken escaped him. "Sorry, I…Thank you, Anders. I know those are the words I need to hear right now but," He passed a sorrowful glance over his shoulder with a screwy smile that didn't belong, "but I don't want to hear them." Roen hung his head and rubbed at his brow; it was an anxious tick that he picked up from Malcolm Hawke. But he hadn't even noticed it until Leandra pointed it out seven years back when they were still living in Gamlen's hovel. Oh Maker how he missed them all.

Hands found their way around Roen's waist, a chest pushed heavily into his back and a chin came to rest on his shoulder. "I'm here for you. We'll get through this." Anders soft voice came as a hot breath on his ear that sent shivers down his spine. After a beat of quiet the mage continued in that same appeasing tone. "Your mother wouldn't want you to blame yourself for what happened. And I know you Roen. I know the weight of guilt you tie to yourself."

Roen stiffened in the hold. He was ready to pull away again but decided that he didn't want to. Instead, he brought his hands to loosely hold the apostate's arms that were still securely wrapped around his waist. "I don't blame only myself. I blame that psychotic bastard for killing her. I blame the Templars and the City Guard for not doing their jobs. Gamlen for being a disconcerted jackass. He could have traveled to Hightown for Maker's sake! Honestly, always allowing Mother to travel all the way down to Lowtown. The son of a bitch squatted in his house while we were tearing through skeletons and demons!"

He knew the anger was seeping through by the way Anders tightened his hold. That allowed him to regain a bit of his composure. He sighed roughly but now his tone was deflated. "I blame Mother for being the nurturing woman that she was. I always asked her why she bothered going to see him when he could care less about us." Roen shook hi shead, awkwardly causing Anders to move his own head until the movement was over and he could rest it on his shoulder again. "He's family, she would say…"

Another pause in the conversation made for both an uneasy and comfortable quiet. "For all the grief you give your Uncle," Anders began, "and for all that he is a bastard, he is still your family. Your mother understood that meant you were all you had left. You know you would be feeling twice as terrible if Gamlen had joined us down there."

"…Yes, I know." Roen relented after a moment. He moved in the mage's grip forcing them to change positions. This way they were facing each other. And this way he could look Anders in the eye. "You're right, I do blame myself too. Three years, Anders. We knew he was out there. We knew he would continue killing. And we were too late; I was too late."

"You did the best with what you had. That's all anyone can do."

Roen laughed again and hugged Anders. "I wish you would stop being so bloody reasonable. I'm trying to hate myself here."

A hand came to gently caress the rogue's cheek, lifting his face back up so that hazel eyes could imploringly hold grey ones. The soft, pained smile on the blonde's face had pleasant convulsions of emotion hammering in Roen's chest. "Then I shall keep on speaking reason. All we found was a hand and a ring and that is more than what Emeric discovered. Even if you vigorously pursued the case, we didn't know what signs to look for. You would have only driven yourself made looking for that which you could not see."

"He was sending her flowers for weeks." Roen retorted darkly despite himself. "I," He squeezed the front fabric of Anders jacket and pulled away from the embrace. "I feel like I was just one step behind. As if I were too slow or too weak." He paced and Anders opened his mouth to object but Roen put up his hands defensively, defeated, and shook his head. "But that's not it. That's not it at all. Mother was dead the moment he took her." No matter the tragedy of that thought it held truth.

"It doesn't matter what I did. That bastard would have found her, would have taken her eventually. Because out of all the woman in Thedas it was my mother who resembled his lost love! Don't you see, Anders? Don't you see what this is?"

The mage took a step towards him, brow drawn in concern, "Roen…" He tried catching the rogue's arm but he just ripped away from the touch.

"My father died puking up his own blood. Bethany was beaten into the ground by an ogre; slammed over and over, bloody, until it tossed her limp body away. Carver, Maker damn me, I killed my own brother so he wouldn't suffer from the sickness. He didn't even want to go to the Deep Roads but I convinced him! I only wanted to show him get him to understand how great a warrior he was. And he had to look into my eyes as I drove a dagger into his gut!"

Roen felt like unleashing violence, letting go of everything so that only the hate would remain. No more happy feelings to taunt him. He collapsed to the floor, an ugly sob choked out as the tears began to spill with his over flowing emotion. Anders was quick to be by his side and wrap his arms around the other man's shoulders. "He apologized. To me. My little brother sorry!" Something of a crazy laugh sounded from him.

"Shhh." The mage tried calming him with a soft, comforting tone. "It's okay."

"You say remember my mother and all that we shared before but every time I close my eyes all I see is her face stitched to that monster!" He shut his eyes so tight that it hurt and tried pulling away from Anders bu the hold remained strong and never relented.

"Don't let that sick son of a bitch win. You need to remember your mother how she was, not what he made her into." The grip tightened painfully but at the same time pleasant. "You're the strongest man I've ever met; not only on the battlefield but in your heart. Don't allow misguided guilt and terrors not your own consume you. You're still breathing. You still have your family's estate…You still have me, Roen."

Anders forced Roen's head up to look at him. His eyes were red, wet streaks glossing his now rosy cheeks and giving his silver eyes a shine. But buried there in his expression was years of repressed feelings coming to the surface. It softened only a little bit as Roen stroked Anders cheek affectionately.

The look quickly hardened, however before Roen launched himself from the ground, throwing Anders back on his butt. "This estate means nothing to me. This house was supposed to be the ticket to a better life but now it's just an empty shell." Roen threw a blast of force magic at the clock on the mantel piece, shattering it the same way he felt his soul had.

Anders securely took hold of Roen's glowing blue hand by the wrist. The look on the apostate's face had the rogue clamping down on his latent magical ability. He never resorted to his magic. Never. That was why he trained as a rogue, so he never had to rely on his natural born powers. That way no one would ever suspect him of being a mage. That way he would never be torn from his home by Templars, the monster in his bed time stories.

How little that seemed to matter now.

"I just want to burn it to the ground." Roen sighed in defeat.

"Yes, well I doubt your mother would appreciate burning down the Amell family estate." Anders hugged him once more, this time allowing for his shoulder to be a surrogate pillow for Roen's head.

The rogue laughed despite himself and halfheartedly pounded a fist into the other man's chest, more like a love tap than anything. "Stop comforting me."

""Why? Is it working?"

"…A little."

"Then you will just have to deal. I'm not stopping."

"Oh, you insufferable man." Roen returned the embrace finally. All of his raging feelings were dowsed by the man that held him. But sitting in those dying embers of rage and distress was the blackened ash of his heart that had been so constantly lit by unfortunate circumstance and heart breaking decisions no one man should have to make.

"I'm cursed, Anders." Roen mumbled as he was led to the bed and pulled down to join the mage in lying down. He was pulled into Anders' arms where he felt secure but tormented.

"Why in Thedas do you say that?" Words spoken in that same comforting tone. It wasn't the usual playful speech but the attempt to lift Roen's spirits did not go unnoticed.

The rogue grabbed a fistful of Anders shirt as if to desperately cling to what little salvation he had left in the world. He lifted himself, propping up on his elbow to peer down at the blonde apostate who tried to raise also but was sternly held down by Roen. They shared a deep gaze; one pair of eyes hurt and scared the other set concerned and unsure.

"Because everyone I love dies a horrible death." Anders made to try and sit up again but Roen lowered his upper body over his, effectively pinning the other man down with his weight. He cupped the mage's cheek in one hand and rested their foreheads together. "It would kill me to lose you. You are the only shining light in this terrible world."

Right away the words were familiar. Ones spoken before but this time they came out of Roen's mouth, sincere and full of the love he felt. It took Anders' breath away.

"I don't want to part from you." He continued, hot breath on Anders lips driving him crazy. "But if you're with me…you'll be hurt or worse."

Anders entwined his fingers with Roen's, putting a chaste kiss on his knuckles. "Nothing is worse than not being able to be with you Roen. Not even Templars or the Circle frightens me more than the thought of living without you." As tight a hold the rogue had on Anders' shirt so did the mage have on Roen's robe. "I warned you before we started this that I would break your heart. Don't tell me you're going to break mine by pushing me away now."

"No," Roen cracked a sad yet promising smile, "That would be too ironic. I know both of us are too stubborn to pull away now. We're going to barrel into tragedy, break each other's hearts and we're going to be the stupid fools that we are and just keep going even when the world tells us not to. It would be much too unfair for either one of us to pull away now. Because it's a decision between the both of us. And I promise to always stand by your side even if you don't want me to." The desperation clung to his tone, hiding thinly behind need and insecurity.

Anders took the rogue by surprise, rolling them over, forcing Roen to be beneath him. "You should know better than to make promises you can't keep." A twinge of darkness surfaced in the mage's eyes, competing with his own love and uncertainty. It hurt Roen.

"Those are the only ones I seem to be good at. Even if these words follow in the footsteps of death my love for you shall never waver. Misfortune awaits me no matter where I go. I'd rather be with you when it happens. You're the only thing keeping me together. I'm sorry if that's a heavy burden."

"None more heavy than what you are to me." Anders leaned down and kissed Roen long and softly. Roen returned it earnestly. They were left to take in deep breaths as if they were held under water only now coming up for air.

A flippant though entered Roen's mind. 'If we're both each other's anchor we'll sink even faster'. But he quickly washed it away, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in his lover. The rogue pulled the mage back down for a deeper more satisfying kiss which he was obliged.

He only pulled back when warm lean fingers found their way in his shirt. "I don't want to close my eyes and see nothing but nightmares. Please, don't let me sleep." He pleaded.

Anders held his gaze. "Just don't close your eyes love. There's still more to see." Then they kissed again and again and what little light they found in each other pushed back the dark shadows of the world.

Fin


End file.
